


Just Like That

by thundercaya



Series: The Workplace Warzone [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:23:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because their conflicting viewpoints didn't matter to Hamilton if he was in the more powerful position. Madison having a friend with similar views in a position similar to Hamilton's--now that was a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like That

Madison sat in a corner of the Capitol restaurant, a half-eaten meatloaf on his plate and his cell phone in his hand. At this very moment, Thomas Jefferson was on a flight from Paris, and Madison couldn't stop looking at the last selfies he had sent: on the ride to the airport, at the terminal, and finally in his seat before he had to turn off his phone. Madison was... excited. God, when was the last time he'd been excited about something? But mostly he was nervous.  


Madison's interactions with Jefferson via electronic means had been carefully controlled, Madison's strengths on full display and his weaknesses wrapped up in amusing anecdotes, always endearing and never embarrassing. Madison wouldn't be able to do that in person and if Jefferson decided that Madison had oversold his good points and undersold the bad--well. The friendship could be over, to say nothing of the other facet of their relationship that Madison hadn't wanted to start on until Jefferson was on US soil. 

"Hey, James," Hamilton said, plopping down into an empty seat at Madison's table. 

Madison managed not to jump, but he did fumble his phone. "Alex," he greeted once he'd gotten a handle on his phone and shoved it into his pocket.

"You okay?" Hamilton asked, cutting up a meatloaf of his own. "You seem a bit on edge."

"When am I--"

"More so than usual," Hamilton amended.

"Well, I don't know why I would be," Madison said.

Hamilton didn't press. "Hey, I had a question for you," he said instead. "What do you know about Thomas Jefferson?"

Madison furrowed his brow. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, I'm going to be working with him in the Cabinet, so I'd like to know what I'm up against."

"'Working with' and 'up against' are the opposite of each other," Madison pointed out. "Anyway, hasn't Washington told you all about him?"

"Oh, sure, but I like to have multiple sources. You know him too, don't you? From back in Virginia?"

"We crossed paths, yes," Madison admitted. "He's... very intelligent."

"Well, Washington wouldn't settle for anything less," Hamilton said, "but is he an all right guy?"

"Do you think Washington would settle for anything less than 'an all right guy?'"

"No, you're right," Hamilton said. He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Between you and me, though, it wouldn't be the first time he misjudged while making  an appointment."

"Do you have any reason to be suspicious?" Madison asked.

"No, no," Hamilton said. "Just a feeling. He just strikes me as kind of sketchy."

"Hm," was Madison's only reply as he turned his attention back to his meatloaf instead.

Hamilton was silent for a moment before finally saying; "I'm gathering that you're better friends with him than you led me to believe."

"I just don't know why you'd go around talking about people you've never met," Madison said.

"Look, it's all right," Hamilton said. "You can be friends with whoever you want."

Madison met Hamilton's eyes, annoyance in his own. "Whomever, and I wasn't aware I needed your permission."

Hamilton winced. "Not my permission, exactly. Of course you can do whatever you want. I just meant I wouldn't hold it against you."

"Hold _what_ against me, exactly?"

"Uh... consorting with someone whose political views are disparate from my own."

"But similar to _mine_ ," Madison reminded.

Hamilton pulled in a breath and pushed it back out forcefully. Ah, so that was the real issue here. Because their conflicting viewpoints didn't matter to Hamilton if he was in the more powerful position. Madison having a friend with similar views in a position similar to Hamilton's--now that was a problem. Madison watched Hamilton watching him and--oh, yes, Hamilton knew he had gotten it.

Hamilton cleared his throat. "I... should go," he said.

"You don't need my permission," Madison replied.

Hamilton opened his mouth to speak again, then changed his mind. He grabbed his meatloaf and threw it in the trash on his way out.

  


Of course after his long flight, the first thing on Jefferson's to-do list would be to get a massive amount of sleep. Madison could relate. Not to the travel aspect, but to how exhausting it was to sit in your own thoughts for eight hours. Sure, Jefferson would be up and about at some point during the day, but Madison still had his job to do. Their meeting would have to wait until after work, when they planned to have dinner.

Madison checked the address Jefferson had sent him against the numbers on the brick pillar before putting his phone away and getting out of the car. Then he took his phone back out and checked it again. Not that he thought he was at the wrong house. Nerves was all. He checked the gate, which Jefferson had left unlocked for him as promised, took a deep breath, then walked up to the door. He straightened his clothing, took another deep breath, then rang the bell.

Jefferson answered rather quickly, so Madison had to assume he'd been unpacking or arranging things near the front entryway. Certainly he hadn't been waiting expectantly near the door. Madison looked up at him. It was a little jarring because though he had met Jefferson before, their video chats over the past couple of years had allowed them to always look at each other at eye level.  He wondered if it was just as strange for Jefferson, looking down at him. God, it didn't matter with most people--he was used to it after a lifetime of being small--but he didn't like the idea of Jefferson _looking down at him_. Madison tried to smile, but he couldn't seem to feel what was happening on his face. He must have managed, though, because Jefferson flashed a smile of his own.

"Hello, James," Jefferson said.

Madison nodded. "Thomas. Welcome back." He put out his hand stiffly for a shake. Jefferson took it, then pulled him into a hug.

"It's good to see you," Jefferson said.

Madison relaxed a bit and returned the embrace. "You as well."

Jefferson released him and ushered him inside. "Sorry for the mess," he said as he gestured for Madison to take a seat in the living room. "The movers have me mostly set up, but I changed my mind about where I wanted some things."

"It's actually cleaner than my place right now," Madison said, sitting down. It was true, but not because Madison's place was messy; Jefferson's place didn't look bad at all. If the decorative pillows being in a pile on the armchair instead of arranged on the couch was what Jefferson considered messy, maybe he was as nervous as Madison, and that was a good sign.

"Did you have a place in mind for dinner?" Jefferson asked.

Madison shook his head. He had tried to come up with a suitable place, but he kept second-guessing his choices, because; "I'm sure nothing around here can compare to what you've been eating in France...."

"Too true," Jefferson said, "but honestly I've been without American junk food for so long, I have a bit of a craving."

Madison's mind shot to the junkiest place he could think of that still had table service. "So then... does Denny's sound good?" he offered.

Jefferson grinned. "Denny's. Sounds. Amazing."

"Let me send you the address," Madison said, pulling out his phone.                                                                      

"We're not going together?"

"I'm sorry," Madison said as he looked up the address and sent it to Jefferson's phone, "but I need to go home and change. I'm a bit overdressed for Denny's."

"It would be hard not to be," Jefferson pointed out.

Madison smiled, standing. "Well, I'll try my best. I'll see you soon."

  


Truthfully, Madison would always rather be overdressed, but the quick trip home allowed him time to get his heart rate and breathing under control. Time to tell himself _calm down,_ _he already likes you_. In their many chats, there had been some unquestionable flirting-- James Madison! Flirting! Technology was amazing!--so what did he have to be worried about?

Just the same, he _was_ worried, and when he was seated with Jefferson, menus in front of them and words flowing from Jefferson's mouth, his moment of respite might as well have not happened. He was listening. Of course he was listening. He was even able to interject with things like "I still have the pictures you sent me of that," and "I practically memorized your email about that, I was laughing about it for three days." Madison was doing well. He knew he was doing well. But that didn't soothe the heavy knot in his stomach than insisted he was flailing.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" Jefferson asked suddenly.

Shit. Madison really _couldn't_ feel what his face was doing.

"Which?" he asked.

"Like you just crapped yourself and you're hoping no one will notice."

Oh, that one.  Yes, he was familiar with it, though his mother had always said he looked like he'd just remembered that he'd forgotten to put on underwear that morning. "Uh. Sorry. That's involuntary."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. "Crapping yourself?"

"One would assume," Madison said, "but I was referring to my expression."

"I just thought maybe something was wrong."

Something was always wrong, on some level, and he'd said as much to Jefferson before, but now was not the time to let him know it hadn't been a joke. "Everything's fine. So...." He cleared his throat. "What did she say after that?"

  


Jefferson ordered a sampler platter, _and_ smothered cheese fries _and_ nachos, all for himself. Madison ordered a breakfast skillet that Jefferson kept eyeing.

"That looks really good, too," Jefferson said.

"Would you like to try it?" Madison offered. He would have gladly given Jefferson his entire plate as he found that he couldn't eat more than a couple of bites. Which was too bad--he'd been hoping to end the meal with a slice of apple pie.

"No, I'll just order it next time," Jefferson dismissed. "I think I already overdid it as it is."

Giving up on his food, Madison switched to water, drinking glass after glass of it to keep himself occupied as Jefferson talked and ate. The water did nothing to soften the knot. If anything, he could feel it expanding, filling up his stomach until--no, that wasn't the knot. It was the water.

Madison stood. "Thomas," he said, "I'llberightback."

Throwing up water wasn't the worst thing in the world, though he wished it wouldn't come out of his nose. When he was sure he was finished, he cleaned himself up and returned to the table.

"Thomas," he said, not sitting down, "I think I need to go home."

Jefferson moved to stand, but Madison signaled for him to remain seated.

"I have my own car," he reminded. "You stay."

"Are you all right?" Jefferson asked.

"Yes," Madison said automatically, his first instinct being to downplay the issue. But that was a mistake, wasn't it? How could he just _leave_ in the middle of dinner if everything were fine? "No," he corrected, but the reason he'd lied in the first place was to keep Jefferson from worrying. "I _will_ be," he said finally. "Finish your food. I'll get the check on my way out."

"I ordered like a hundred things," Jefferson pointed out. "I'll get the check."

"It comes out to the same as if I'd taken you somewhere nice. It's your welcome home dinner. Please let me get this."

"All right," Jefferson conceded. "Thank you, James. See you at the Capitol tomorrow?"

Madison succeeded in smiling. "I hope so."

  


Madison did feel better in the morning, and after being awake for a couple hours, his stomach accepted coffee and a biscuit with grace. When he walked into the cabinet meeting, both Hamilton and Jefferson turned and smiled at him. He... tried to smile back, but now that he remembered what it felt like, he recognized the crapped-himself expression there instead.

Any remaining hope that Madison could still be friends with Hamilton after their conversation two days ago vanished as Hamilton and Jefferson went back and forth. No person alive could be friends with both of them, or at least no person with Madison's deficient social dexterity. The choice--if there had ever been a choice--had been made a long time ago; Madison had been actively and ardently courting Jefferson long before Hamilton had inserted himself into Madison's life. Not to mention the political rift that had been growing between them, thrown into the spotlight now as Hamilton's jabs at Jefferson's political leanings struck Madison's as well. Hamilton knew it, too. He kept glancing over at Madison, not apologetically, but regretfully. Like he was sure he was doing the right thing but wished he didn't have to do it. Well, two could play at that game, but Madison wasn't going to be one of them. When he made his comments in favor of Jefferson's arguments, the glances he spared in Hamilton's direction were cold.

At the conclusion of the meeting, Jefferson touched Madison's arm, getting his attention.

"Can I talk to you in my office?"

  


Walking into Jefferson's office, Madison realized just how tightly Jefferson had squeezed in his return before the meeting. Unlike his house, the office was nowhere near unpacked and ready. There was no intern present, off running some sort of errand, most likely. The office smelled a bit like paint, too, though the walls didn't seem to be wet. Maybe no one had thought to open the windows in an unoccupied office between when it was painted and now.

Jefferson left the door open--for the smell--so whatever he wanted to say couldn't be _that_ private.  He didn't ask Madison to sit--there was only one chair--and simply said; "I appreciate you backing me up in there."

"Considering I agree with you," Madison said, "I'd've been remiss not to."

Jefferson smiled. "Just the same," he said, putting a hand on Madison's shoulder, "thank you"

"Secretary Jefferson!" Hamilton's voice, approaching. Madison and Jefferson turned towards the open doorway just as Hamilton appeared, looking out of breath and leaning on the doorframe. "Secretary Jefferson, I had one more thought I--" He cut off as his gaze fell to Jefferson's hand on Madison's shoulder. He looked between the two of them, squinting. "You... just got here. Are you two... together?" 

Jefferson didn't withdraw his hand and Madison didn't shake him off.

"Well, we are in the same room," Madison said, "so in that sense all three of us are together."

"We're also on the same side of this issue," Jefferson added, "so he and I are together in that sense as well."

Hamilton scowled. "Forget it. Unimportant. As I said, I had more to say on today's meeting. Will you to hear me out?"

"Maybe later," Jefferson said, only now removing his hand, and only so he could lean on his desk, arms crossed. "We'll be in touch."

Madison cleared his throat. Might as well put the nail in the coffin now, with Jefferson here to witness it, no uncertainty remaining. "Well, _he_ will be, anyway. I certainly won't."

Hamilton's eyes widened for just a moment, but he reconfigured them back into a glare. "Just like that?" he asked.

Madison turned out his palms, not bothering with a full shrug. "Just like that."

"Fine," Hamilton said. "Secretary Jefferson, I hope to hear from you soon." Though the door had been opened with he arrived, he slammed it shut as he left.

"Wow," Jefferson said. "Stone cold." He sounded more impressed than anything. Madison didn't worry about the man thinking him disloyal; he'd never talked Hamilton up as a close friend in his conversations with Jefferson, not wanting him to perceive any competition that wasn't really there.

An actual shrug this time. "He was a stopgap I never asked for."

"Putting aside that he had no right to ask," Jefferson said, "he posed a good question."

"About hearing him out? I have some ideas on how to make that conversation worth your time."

Jefferson smiled fondly. "And I'd love to hear them. But I meant the other one."

Oh. Right. The other one. Madison cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "If you have no objections, I'd like to say yes, we are."

Jefferson straightened up and took a step towards Madison. "So then, is it all right if I...?" He placed a hand on Madison's jaw, tilting his face upward. Madison shivered--it was _nice_ \--but he held up a hand between the two of them.

"We're still at work."

"Even though we're in private?"

"Work's never really private," Madison said "And you'll need to open the door soon. It smells like chemical death in here."

Jefferson nodded, in agreement though he didn't try to hide his disappointment. "Well... can I swing by your place tonight?"

Madison considered this. If Jefferson thought his own house was messy last night, what would he think of Madison's? "Can I swing by yours instead?"

Jefferson grinned. "Any time at all."


End file.
